Fated

clasping as her gaze locks on mine. “Even if you are able to find it, under no circumstances are you to enter. You’re not yet ready, and there will be plenty of time for that later. For now, all I ask is that you try to locate it, then report back once you’ve succeeded.”
    I take a deep breath, turning to face myself again. My hair is lank and straight, and that’s the way it’ll stay; I’m not one for fluff and curls. And after enhancing my eyes with dark liner and a third coat of mascara, I add a hint of peach blush at my cheeks, and complete the look with my usual dab of lip salve. No need to overdo it. No need to look like I’m trying too hard to impress.
    I return to Paloma, leaning against the counter when I say, “Okay, so, how do you suggest I do that? How will I recognize it? What does a portal even look like? And didn’t you say that it’s guarded? So how am I supposed to get anywhere near it?” The second the words are out, my eyes bulge in horror when I realize I sound exactly like Jennika—shooting a full stream of questions, without once pausing for breath. Which isn’t exactly one of the traits I’d hoped to inherit.
    “I guess it’s safest to say that you’ll know it when you see it. I’m afraid there is no set standard for what a vortex looks like. Sometimes you know it by the way the air grows suddenly hazy and shimmery—like you saw in Morocco. Other times, it’s more dense, greasy, and bleary looking. Sometimes, it’s more of a feeling—a perceptible rise in energy—as though the area is vibrating higher and faster than anywhere else. In that case, you will often notice the entire area affected as well. Twisted Juniper tree branches are always a good indication,” she says, her words reminding me of the time I rode on the reservation with Chay, when I saw a twisted juniper tree, and he wouldn’t let me get anywhere near it, said I wasn’t ready just yet. But I don’t mention it to Paloma, I just nod for her to continue.
    “What you need to understand is that you can’t hear anything, feel anything, or see anything unless you focus on it with intent.” She pauses, the blank look on my face prompting her to explain. “Right now you’re focused on me. You’re looking at me, listening to me, struggling to understand me—” She flashes a grin. “And you’re successful in this endeavor because I am already a solid part of your consciousness. I already exist within the field of all the things that you know and have come to expect of the world. But now that you realize there is more to this world than you thought—now that you know that this particular Middleworld dimension is just one of many and that there are vortexes and portals that lead to other worlds, and other dimensions within those worlds—it won’t be long before you’ll become proficient enough to locate them easily. But for now, for tonight, all I ask is that you take a good look around, stay alert, and if you do notice something that appears out of the norm, take careful note, observe the area well, then get yourself out as quickly as possible.”
    I fumble with the strap on my watch, remembering the first and last times I visited the Rabbit Hole. How the whole place seemed odd, off, and definitely out of the norm. From the bleary-eyed patrons at the bar, to the bartenders, bouncers, and waitstaff who worked there, and now I understand that they’re all under the spell of the Richters.
    “The place is rigged with surveillance cameras,” I say, my eyes meeting Paloma’s. “Right before I left, I went into an office where I saw Cade monitoring the entire building, inside and out, from a large set of screens. It won’t be easy to poke around in there. No matter where I go, they’ll be able to watch me. And believe me, once they realize I’ve entered the premises, they’ll be watching for sure. There’s no way I can sneak under their radar.”
    But despite all I’ve said, Paloma meets my words with a smile. “But you will sneak under their radar, nieta. And you’ll do so quite easily, with very little effort, as you will soon see. They won’t even notice you, I promise you that.”
    I peer at her, having no idea what she’s getting at, and not sure I want to. “So … you’ve got an invisibility cloak for me to wear?” I say, hoping the joke will calm my nerves, and it does. But only until she reaches into the side pocket of her dress and retrieves a small glass jar with tiny holes